I visited the temple beforeI stayed there again last nightsounds floated into space from a dark ravinefaint shadows danced in the moonlit woodsI gazed at the stars in a sliver of skyand shivered beneath my robeall night in the cloudsjust before dawn I heard the bellit made me think as I woke.

Even homecoming means but little peace and joy.My thoughts are carried to the scenes of hermitage,Close to nature and far from the turmoil of men.I regret that the course of my life has been a mistake.

Far off, I gaze at the white clouds,I think deeply of the ancients …I think of you, recluses:A thousand years after, I cherish your principles.Searching their essence, I cannot exhaust it. …That the ancients cannot be with meonly I can know how sorely I regret it.

Becalmed the profane noise of the crowd.
Toward the risen Moon, the symbolic Bronzes
Curve, in the blue night, their antique nudity
In the sphinx-like majesty of attitudes.
A dream of incense symphonies the lustral Lake,
Enchanted by the sidereal presence of Swans,
Elegiacally swooning their silver-pale lines,
Beneath the sacred music of astral infinitude.
Drunken with silence, the aching lawns
Grow languid in the brightness of calm reveries;
Amid the somnolent shadows of the bowers
Hovers the conjugal slumber of weary birds;
And the mute asphalt of the abandoned pathways
No longer shudders beneath the lascivious step of idylls.

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